


tell it to the stars (but hide it from the sun)

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they're happy for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they sleep together it’s an accident. So is the second time. Also the third. And then after that it just keeps happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell it to the stars (but hide it from the sun)

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write Clarke and Bellamy being happy for once. That's all I want. For them to be happy and healthy and together in the same place for more than two minutes.

The first time they sleep together it’s an accident.

All Bellamy remembers is the two of them sitting cross legged on either end of the bed with a handful of maps spread out in between. There was a relaxed air about, despite the fact that conversation was short and stilted at times and, as the night wore on, punctuated with more and more yawns.

When he wakes up though, it’s to Clarke’s hand tangled in his hair and his head nestled on her chest, shifting with each breath she takes. It doesn’t strike him at first, as he shakes the last grips of sleep off him all he can wonder is why his pillow is so much softer than before, and warmer too. He does realise eventually, after a few seconds, and sits up almost immediately, a dull flush creeping on to his cheeks.

Her hand drops down on to the bed with a muffled thump, and the slight jostle causes a faint frown to tug at her mouth as she begins to stir.

(Bellamy does _not_ watch her eyes slowly flicker open, squinting at the early morning light that seeps in with lips pursed in a tiny pout as she combs her sleep mussed hair away from her face. And he certainly does not imagine what it would be like to wake up to this every morning.)

If Clarke notices anything odd about her previous sleeping arrangements- and surely she must- she says nothing, and greets him as normal, voice scratchy and hoarse from disuse. Bellamy tries not to think about that either.

The only time she shows any bit of reaction is when she has to smooth the wrinkles out of the maps that they laid on last night, after they’re already fully awake and moving about his room. Her cheeks pink just a little, but she doesn’t bring it up, and when she leaves she tells him she’ll see him at lunch, like she does every morning.

The second time happens about three weeks after the first, and they’re not in Arkadia, but en route to meet with a group of grounders up east.

They set up camp for the night, and Clarke lays out her sleeping bag next to his like they always do. What he doesn’t expect is the way they seem to migrate towards each other at night.

Again, he wakes up before her, and again it takes him a moment before he realises what’s going on. This time their legs are tangled together and her front is almost flush to his chest, Clarke lying on the edge of cot and halfway in the dirt. Her face is smooth and calm and she looks content for once, with her hand curled into a fist lying right over his heart.

Bellamy allows himself a few more seconds of this- lying there with Clarke at his side in the early morning sunlight that filtered its way through the trees- before he slowly extricates himself and leaves her to sleep.

Next time is more him falling asleep on her than anything else, when he comes to see her about a migraine he has.

She makes him sit down in front of her and drink an entire canteen of water while she gently cards her fingers through his hair. It’s almost embarrassing how quick his eyes begin to droop, and the next thing he knows is that his face is pressed against the threadbare material covering her stomach and he’s holding on to her for dear life.

Her fingers still stroke his scalp, and when he glances up he finds her reading an old book on medicinal plants.

Bellamy feels the warmth seep into his cheeks as he gets up from his makeshift bed on her lap, but once again, Clarke doesn’t make a big deal out of it, choosing instead to ask if he’s feeling better now and then berate him for not staying hydrated in the same breath.

He ducks his head to hide the crooked grin that suddenly appears there and refuses to go even after he’s reassured her that he’s fine before he leaves her quarters.

After that things kind of... spiral.

She’s always in his room at the end of her shift, waiting for him to return so they could talk about their days, and ends up spending a good few nights there too when she’s too tired to walk across camp to the cabin she shares with her mother. The first few times it happens he offers to let her take the bed while he sleeps on a bedroll on the floor, but Clarke usually cuts him off with a scoff and a tell tale roll of her eyes, saying that if he does that then she’ll have to listen to him complain about hurting his back for the rest of the week, before yanking him towards her by his wrist.

(He stops his half hearted attempts after the first handful of times, partly because Clarke doesn’t seem to be able to take no for an answer, but mostly because waking up next to her in the morning is slowly becoming one of his guilty pleasures.)

When a storm damages some of the cabins- including hers and her mother’s- Bellamy doesn’t even think twice about offering her his room to stay in while they worked to fix them. They do get a couple of raised eyebrows from some of the adults though, when they see the two of them moving Clarke’s meagre belongings into his room, but neither of them pay any attention to that.

Waking up to Clarke is always different each time. For one, she doesn’t seem able to keep in place for the full night, tossing and turning spontaneously, almost punching him in the face a few times.

(She does actually punch him in the face once, and can’t control her laughing long enough to fix him. He’s lucky it was just a light tap, and his cheekbone is only sore for a few days.)

She also likes to take up most of his bed, leaving Bellamy with just six inches of the edge for himself. She sleeps _diagonally_ half the time, spread out with one leg pointed towards the corner of the bed and the other thrown across his hip. Her head is usually pillowed on his bicep, nails digging almost painfully into the skin there, and Bellamy gets accustomed to waking up with his arm usually numb and asleep.

(The cabins get fixed eventually, but she doesn’t move back in and he swears that she clings tighter to him each night.)

While the frequency of his nightmares has certainly decreased, having Clarke stay with him has made them almost nonexistent. And on the off chance that he does get one and jerks awake in the middle of the night with blood on his tongue and gunpowder in his veins, it’s always her that grounds him, even as she sleeps completely unawares in his side.

She still gets them too, he knows, maybe once every fortnight if so much. But he also knows that she has far too much pride to want to let anyone know about it, to help her, so he stays quiet during these times, feigning sleep. It doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip around her waist though, or burying his face in her hair when she settles back down.

They never talk about it, even though this arrangement has been going on for a few months thus far. Bellamy always wakes first and slowly extracts himself from her vice-like grip. He’s learnt that without any imminent threats, Clarke likes to have a bit of a lie in, but she always wakes up before he leaves for the day and always promises to see him at lunch.

And at night they don’t really wait for the other person to show up before they go to sleep. They both keep weird hours and come to the unspoken agreement to just go to bed whenever they feel like it regardless if the other is there or not. Still though, whenever he returns from a graveyard shift she always automatically rolls into his side with a snore, and whenever she stumbles in after a gruelling shift in the med bay, he sleepily pushes the blankets on top of her so she doesn’t freeze.

When the days start getting shorter, and the nights longer and colder, he finds it becoming harder to leave the bed in the morning. He thought it impossible for them to get any closer while they slept but apparently he was wrong. It seems that the dull chill that seeps into their bones acts as a catalyst. Bellamy starts waking up to find the two of them pressed together, his hands bracketing her torso while hers creep under his shirt to lay on his chest, legs tangled and her hair everywhere, spilling on to him like sunlight.

It’s easier to have their evening talks while curled around each other in bed, and Bellamy likes to pretend that it’s only because it’s too damn cold elsewhere.

(And if his hand strokes her hair while she forms constellations with his freckles, it’s only because it’s just natural for them to be this comfortable after living in each other’s pockets for so long. He’s not going to read into that, or the way she kisses his cheek, sloppy, when she’s half asleep, or how much he likes to press one in return to her forehead.)

They start to linger in bed now, under the warm cocoon of blankets, wrapped up in one another while he rubs his hand down her back and she nuzzles his neck. Start to take longer and longer to pry away from each other, each touch more frequent and lingering. Start to let whatever walls remain between them crumble away when they’re under the shelter of blankets and darkness.

(Bellamy doesn’t want to read into things because then he starts to hope, and he knows that that never ends well.)

He knows what everyone thinks when they see them together, knows what the shared looks mean when they see Clarke rest her head on his shoulder, or him wrap an arm around her shoulders. No one outright demands to know the nature of their relationship, and if they ever did, he probably wouldn’t even know what to say.

Until one morning Clarke kisses him, chaste and easy, as she pulls on her jacket, in between reminding him to get those herbs for her while on his run today and promising to meet him for lunch before she leaves.

Later he confronts her about it and she laughs, tinkling and silver, linking her arms around his neck. She presses a kiss his nose and teases him, telling him how maybe next time he should read into things a bit more.

(Bellamy learns that waking up to Clarke in the morning is better than he imagined, especially when she’s his girlfriend, and for once he does nothing to quell the hope ballooning in his chest.)

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to scream with me on [tumblr](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com/) at any time


End file.
